You reach a certain point as a writer when you know that you must put your work out for others to read, view, and absorb.

For me, this realization came after finishing the last book I wrote in December.

I realized after the last line was written that every book I’d written had moved me towards that point–I’ve written four–but living in fear of being judged for my writing kept me from publishing.

I’ve sent short stories out, but all of them have been sent back with a form letter.

This year, I have goals that need to be achieved. I will send off two books and wait to see if they’re picked up,

I will send off two books and wait to see if they’re picked up, I will write three books, write a bunch of short stories, which is what I do in between novels, and I will keep moving forward with my writing.

Writing keeps my brain working, it keeps my mind functioning on all cylinders and the thought of quitting now when I know that I’m better than I was only a year ago, is the driving force in my life.

I once wrote only for me and now that I’m writing full-time I need to put it out there.

In the next few months I’ll share details, but for now. I’m writing, working on getting published traditionally and making more art.